warriorz_fanfictionfandomcom-20200214-history
An Ocean of Blood
Hello This is a story I've been planning for ages, and I'm super enthusiastic about it. Enjoy! - Kittycat79 Prologue A cool night breeze blew through the trees above the tall, white cliffs of a stone hollow dug deep into the ground long ago. Though the broad, sandy clearing at the base of the cliffs was mostly silent, a few pairs of coloured orbs glowed from the black shadows cast over the ThunderClan camp. One pair of orbs, brilliant green ones, moved from the darkness of a bush. A shape emerged, long and muscular with a black-and-white coat that shone in the weak moonlight. The young tomcat stretched in the dark clearing, his back lifting in a magnificent arch. He flicked his tail and gave his shoulder a swift lick, then sat down. “Patchleaf!” A voice boomed from the other side of the clearing, and another cat, ginger this time, approached the first tom. His shoulders rippled with even more muscle than the younger feline, and his pelt bore the scars of many a fierce battle. “Hello, Goldstar.” The black-and-white tom dipped his head to the larger cat. “Why aren’t you in your nest, warrior? You had a long day today, fighting off that pack of foxes with no assistance until the last minute, then patrols till sunset!” Patchleaf shrugged modestly, avoiding his leader’s orange gaze. “It was nothing. Any cat would have done the same. We all swore to protect our Clan in our warrior ceremonies, and that is what I intend to do.” Goldstar nodded slowly. “Indeed we did, Patchleaf. But you have shown exceptional battle skill, from the moment you became an apprentice. ThunderClan is lucky to have you.” A purr rumbled from the younger tom’s throat. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” the ginger tom meowed, changing the subject as he stared up at the star-studded black sky. “You know, Patchleaf, I was thinking that I might give you an apprentice of your -“ Just then a pained yowl echoed through the camp, interrupting the striped leader’s sentence. Both his and Patchleaf had spun around to face the source of the noise: a gorse den at the edge of the clearing. A plump, fluffy gray tabby she-cat rushed from a screen of brambles, a leaf wrap in her jaws. A small brown cat hurried along behind her, anxiety plastered all over his face. “What’s wrong?” Goldstar had run over to the two cats, Patchleaf following somewhat reluctantly. The gray tabby spat the leaf out of her mouth to reply, blue eyes bright with alertness. “Can’t you guess? One of the queens has gone into labour. Willowsong has been looking very big these past few days, so it might be her!” The leader’s eyes widened. “Of course, of course! You’d better go then, Owlfeather. Don’t let me keep you!” Owlfeather heeded his words, picking up the leaf wrap again and quickly vanishing into the gorse bush with the brown tom hot on her heels. Left alone, the two toms looked at each other. Goldstar’s eyes brimmed with suppressed excitement, while Patchleaf’s expression was one of pure horror. “Isn’t this great?” Goldstar prompted, with a quick glance toward the nursery. “More kits for the Clan! The apprentices’ den is packed already, but we’ve got more little warriors on the way!” The black-and-white cat gave a vacant nod, gulping. “Is there a problem, Patchleaf?” He appeared not to hear the ginger tom for a moment, then suddenly jerked his head up, looking no less terrified. “Absolutely fine, Goldstar. The more kits for the Clan, the better.” But all the warmth and pride had drained from his voice, leaving it a cold shell of anxiety. He gave his chest a nervous lick. “Well, I’d best be off to bed. Another big day tomorrow, no doubt.” Clearly surprised by Patchleaf’s manner, Goldstar nodded with an almost equally vacant expression, and the warrior loped to a small cave in the cliff wall, guarded by spiky leaves and branches. ____________ A while later, after many an agonized screech had erupted from the nursery, Owlfeather stuck her head into the warriors’ den. The black-and-white tom was still there in the warm gloom, asleep among the bodies of his Clanmates. The fluffy gray tabby hissed his name, and Patchleaf’s head shot up immediately - an instinct he had learned in his warrior training. Owlfeather’s gaze was soft and swelled with happiness. “Patchleaf, oh Patchleaf. You’ll never guess what happened.” The warrior gave her a look which invited no doubt that he knew exactly ''what had happened, and wanted no part in it. “Just let me sleep,” the tom groaned, chin returning to his paws. “But Patchleaf -“ Owlfeather’s tone rose into high-pitched shock. “No.” Patchleaf raised his head and flashed her a final, ice-cold stare. “Leave.” “You can’t talk to your medicine cat that way -“ But Patchleaf had already rolled over to face the shadowy back wall of the den, tail curled over his nose. Gaze hardening, Owlfeather retreated stiffly from the warriors’ den and returned to her own. Chapter 1 - Tempers Running High ''Ryekit awoke, immediately feeling immense heat burning his skin. He jumped out of the way, blinking in fright, expecting to see a patch of flames sizzling the sheepswool where he had previously been lying. But all he saw was a patch of sunlight pouring out of a gap in the bramble wall and lighting up the padded floor of the nursery. Ryekit hurriedly licked his brown tabby fur all over, cooling it down, and was about to resume his nap when a voice sounded behind him. “Oh, you terror! Snuck out of the den and got ourselves sunburned, have we?” Ears flattening with embarrassment and indignation, the kit whipped around to see the expected cat: his lanky, mean old mother, Acornflower, towering over him, odd eyes glowing with frustration at her son. Her tabby pelt was bristling slightly with anger, and Ryekit noticed the claws on one foot digging into the thick wool beneath them. “N-no!” he snapped, teeth bared. “I was just sleeping and this stupid sunshine attacked me!” “Well, that’s what you get for escaping the family nest and dozing elsewhere, I suppose,” Acornflower meowed, now sounding less furious and more tired. “Come into the nest for a sleep, dear, I forgive –“ But the little tom wasn’t listening. He had switched his attention to another kitten, a soft-looking gray one, who had just scrambled over her mother’s tail of similar colouring. “Got yourself sunburned, widdle wee kitty?” she squeaked in a mock baby voice. “Can’t Ryekittikins handle the bad gweenweaf shunwight?” Ears turning even redder than the sun had made them, Ryekit flicked his long, striped tail up in the air. “And what was widdle Lavenderkit doing, sleeping with her mummy like the tiny kit she is? Remind me, who’s ''getting apprenticed tomorrow, and ''who’s ''staying behind in the nursery?” he retorted. Lavenderkit recoiled, shrinking back as if bitten, short coat puffed up protectively. “Just wait until I get my father in here! Slickice’ll give you a scratch to remember!” Just as Ryekit rolled his eyes arrogantly, the mound of bluish, storm-coloured fur behind the young she-cat moved and yawned, revealing a vast array of shiny white teeth. The cat shifted its position until its dark blue eyes rested on the pair of squabbling kits. “What’s wrong, Lavenderkit, my dear?” she asked gently, her gaze constantly flicking from her daughter to the tabby tomkit. “Ryekit’s bullying me again!” the blue-gray kitten complained. Ryekit was about to correct her rudely and tell the queen that ''she ''provoked him, but the adult cat interrupted him before he even drew breath to speak. “Oh, he is now, is he? Don’t worry, Mummy’ll deal with him.” Ryekit almost laughed at this baby talk, but held his tongue. “What’s going on here?” boomed Acornflower, and the tom had to stop himself from cowering. ''Ryekit never cowers! He is handsome and brave and never, ever backs away! ''He straightened his posture proudly, staring Lavenderkit down, daring her to talk. “It seems your son was mistreating my kit,” the blue-gray queen replied in a coldly polite tone, eyes sparking with resentment when she witnessed the young tabby. From the corner of his eye Ryekit glimpsed the youngest queen in the nursery, the gray-and-white Larktail, staring at the arguing cats with her long tail wrapped around her three practically-newborn kits. “I’m sorry, Willowsong. Come away from there, Ryekit,” Acornflower mewed. “No!” “Now!” Wrinkling his nose in disgust at his denmates’ attitudes, he slunk away back to the mossy bed he called his own, casting dirty looks at his nemesis Lavenderkit as he went. Acornflower sunk down into the nest and curled her warm, furry tail around her son, tugging him close. She gave him a loving lick between the ears and murmured, “It’s okay, ‘Rye. Willowsong is just a bit protective –“ “And so are you!” He suddenly jumped up, claws out, and shook leaves and grass from his thick, downy pelt. The warmth of her coat had been stifling, not comforting. His mother’s eyes widened and she appeared as if she was about to speak, but he broke her off. “I hate you! I hate Lavenderkit and Willowsong and Patchstar! I hate this whole Clan, and I know you hate me too. I see how everyone looks at me. You think I’m useless and annoying, but all I want to do is make my stupid life a little less boring!” With that he stormed out of the nursery, hackles and tail high, leaving a group of shocked denmates in his wake. Ryekit padded out onto the sun-baked sand of the clearing. The kit gazed up and down the huge stone cliffs that acted as guards to the ThunderClan camp. He had seen them many times before, but this time they looked dark and imposing, even in the warm, sparkling noon sunshine. He stared until he began to feel trapped, as if the camp walls were closing in on him, squeezing and choking... Not caring who saw, Ryekit raced out of the clearing on stubby striped legs and into the forest, teeth clenched all the way. He eventually stopped in a small, sunlit clearing. He was out of breath, his legs tired and shaky, pads damaged by hard terrain, sleek pelt full of debris. As the big kitten twisted his head to remove a twig stuck on his furry shoulder, the undergrowth rustled and crunched. Ryekit jumped, whipped around and, panic-stricken, looked for escape routes. All he saw was prickly bramble thickets, grass too thin to hide him, and a tall, burly oak. ''Maybe if I make a dash to that huge tree I can – “There you are!” It was not a hungry fox that emerged from the bushes, but a ruggedy dark brown cat. Her yellow gaze fell upon Ryekit and all his annoyance came rushing back to smother the fear he’d felt a moment before. “What?” he spat, backing away, ears flat to his head. “I don’t wanna go back to camp! Don’t make me! Don’t touch me!” But the she-cat merely smiled with a hint of amusement. “It’s okay, dear. You know you’re not allowed out of the stone hollow until you’re apprenticed. C’mon back to camp, and Robinfeather’ll get you a nice, warm mouse to chew on.” The kit’s anger ignited further. “Leave me alone! I don’t want you, or the camp, or mice! Stop being kind, I know you’ll abandon me soon enough! Just loathe and ignore me like everyone else!” Ryekit once again turned and ran off from his only company. Ignoring Robinfeather’s yowls, he ran through the thick forest, not knowing where he was going. Thorns sliced at his soft muzzle and branches whipped his face, but he didn’t care. At a shallow stream he tripped over sharp pebbles and landed in the water, but he got up again, shok his coat dry and kept running until he arrived at a large dip in the ground. The young tom stuck his head out of a holly bush and peered down the dirt slope. At the bottom, grass grew in a thin green-brown covering, but had clearly been heavily trampled. Beyond that was a dark hole that yawned into the ground, with scuffed earth around the base. He raised his head, sniffing with his pink nose, and caught a whiff of a stench so foul that he flinched and backed up against an aspen tree. He couldn’t identify the scent, but some deep instinct told him that it meant danger. Ryekit’s tail flicked uncertainly, not sure what to do. He wasn’t going to run back to camp - that was the kind of thing a wimp like Lavenderkit would do. He didn’t know what direction the stone hollow was in anyway. Then a loud snuffling, rustling noise made his ears prick up, and he emerged from the bush again, eyes narrowed against the bright morning sun. At the bottom of the slope, a broad black-and-white-striped head was protruding from the mouth of the hole. Suddenly Ryekit realized what that smell was. He had been told stories of cats brutally murdered by… Badgers! The small brown tabby backed away, hackles raised. The last he saw of the badger’s face was its snout turned in his direction, black nose twitching and yellow eyes glittering with malice. “RYEKIT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He no sooner heard the panicked yowl than he felt teeth grip his scruff and he was swung into the air. ThunderClan scent washed over him, and he caught a glimpse of his rescuer’s dark ginger fur. The warrior ran in the opposite direction, feline paws thundering behind him. Ryekit hissed and fidgeted as he banged rapidly against the cat’s hard-muscled legs. Fear-scent filled the air as the patrol raced through the trees. Ryekit heard the badger bark from behind them, but the noise soon faded, and all he could hear was the panting of his Clanmates and birdcalls from the trees whose leaves rustled in the wind. They soon arrived at the stone hollow, and Ryekit was dropped unceremoniously onto the sandy ground. He stood up, shaking out his pelt indignantly, and whirled to face the older cats. The members of the patrol were the ginger tom who carried the irritated brown kit, a young silver-gray tabby and Robinfeather, the she-cat who intercepted Ryekit earlier. The red-furred tom flicked his tail at the two other cats. “Robinfeather, Lilypaw, you can go now.” The brown she-cat padded over to the fresh-kill pile, but the apprentice didn’t move, instead staring at the kit with laughter in her green eyes. “What were you doing at a badger sett, silly?” Lilypaw, the youngest apprentice, mewed, then mrrowed with laughter. “You know they’re dangerous.” Ryekit met her gaze steadily. “I didn’t know it was a badger!” he meowed defiantly. He was the same size as her, so she shrunk back a little, but didn’t let herself submit to his aggression. Her eyes still twinkled with humour. “I just thought you’d recognize badger scent after disobeying your elders and escaping from camp so often, that’s all.” She flicked her tail and padded away, leaving Ryekit in silence. “Ryekit!” The horrified shout was all too familiar to the brown tabby, and he turned to see his lanky, long-legged mother sprinting over with fear in her eyes, tail waving frantically. “You’ve got to stop running off like that, dear! I was worried sick!” The young tomcat was about to hiss back a retort when Redwood cleared his throat and stood up. “He’s fine, Acornflower. I need to bring him to Patchstar, then I’ll send him over to you, okay?” The queen nodded slowly, and the warrior nudged Ryekit back to his feet so hard that he swayed off balance, and he reluctantly followed the ginger cat to the Highledge cave. Ryekit padded inside, feeling as if he were shrinking inside his own pelt as the shadow-thick cave walls closed in around him. Even though the cavern wasn’t very deep at all, dank, stale, foreboding air filtered out of it, making the tomkit wrinkle his nose at the cold, rocky smell. The young tabby’s indignance, stubbornness and fiery temper had been worn down by prior events. He was sleepy from dashing through the trees all day. Sticks, leaves, prickles and clumps of dirt were stuck all over his fur coat, one of his pawpads was severely scratched and his nervous heart was pounding against a chest that heaved with every painful breath. His gut ached with hunger but he dared not complain; he was already being taken to the Clan leader’s den for a punishment, and despite his experience with misbehavioural penalties, on this particular evening he desired no more. “Patchstar, we found Ryekit,” the warrior announced, snapping the little tom from his thoughts. “Good job, Redwood. I know this one can be quite a pawful.” The speaker, a large black-and-white cat, turned from where he was sitting in his mossy nest. Rich, pale green eyes gleamed in the dim light. “So, uh...what punishment will you give him?” the ginger tabby warrior asked, tail-tip twitching awkwardly. “We found him sniffing around a badger sett. He could have been killed.” PatchstaR turned back slowly to gaze at the stone wall of the den. “Are penalties now mandatory for every aspect of minor rule-breaking, Redwood?” he meowed smoothly and calmly. “W-well, m-my leader, R-Ryekit did ''sort of r-run off into the f-forest without permission before b-becoming an a-apprentice, d-didn’t h-he?” the ginger tabby stammered shyly, nervous all of a sudden at challenging his leader’s word. “S-so, he broke a rule, and could have been k-killed by that badger or w-who knows what else!” “I am aware of that, dear tom. Otherwise I wouldn’t have sent out a search party, would I? But I don’t see sense for this kit to be reprimanded seriously for his actions. Something must have been done to get him into that ugly state, would it not?” At this point Ryekit’s nerves melted away. ''What was I thinking? Of course Patchstar isn’t gonna punish me. He’s too much of a yellow-belly to do that. Come on, give in to your soft side and let me off as you usually do. ''The brown tabby smiled and stifled a purr of satisfaction. “Y-yes, of course,” Redwood answered, sounding as if he were too afraid to say anything else. ''I don’t know why. Our leader never yells at or hits anyone. '' “Were you not curious about the outside world as a kit, my warrior? This young one here simply wanted to explore, to test the boundaries. After moons of training as an apprentice he will learn of the boundaries and cease to push them, because he will be allowed more freedom. That starts tomorrow, as you know. Anyway, I never like to send any cat to bed in a bad mood. It sets a negative attitude for the next day, and no one wants to be grumpy at their very own ceremony, do they?” He looked back at his guests, leaf-coloured eyes sparkling gently and fondly in the kitten’s direction particularly. “You are both dismissed. Ryekit, your mother is surely expecting you at the nursery. Redwood, please inform Rosepond of the badger so I can discuss it with her in private.” The ginger tom dipped his head so low it almost touched the floor and he led the young cat out of the cavern into the glaring twilight that made Ryekit blink rapidly. The brown tabby noticed a bunch of big, muscular cats eating at the entrance to the warriors’ den, one of them being the deputy Rosepond, and Redwood suddenly growled in a deep, tough voice, so unlike the nervous stutter he had used in the cave, “Scram, kit. I gotta eat; never know when that badger you found is going to lumber in and wreck the camp.” Amber eyes glowing happily, he hurried off to the fresh-kill pile, chin and tail high. Ryekit bared his teeth as he watched Redwood go, then padded over to the nursery, where a both very frightened and very angry Acornflower stood waiting for him. _______________ Ryekit padded across the forest floor, glancing around. He felt even smaller and shorter than usual; the trees formed a comforting canopy overhead, rooted to the edge of the leaf-strewn ground. The kit’s paws felt strangely light, as if he were walking on air. Suddenly a large figure burst from the darkness. It was twice the height of Ryekit, and it was a cat, his face hidden by shadow. Yet a fuzzy, cheerful emotion rolled off him in waves, and he leaned down until he was face-to-face with the kitten. Still his face was blank and dark. Ryekit reached forward, standing on his hind legs, and tried to touch noses with the figure. In his belly he felt a warm, excited feeling, better than anything he’d felt before. But then the mysterious cat jerked his head up, whipped around and started running down a path. Shocked and confused, Ryekit chased him, winding through the foggy trees, yowling desperately for the tomcat to stop, but no matter how hard he pushed his legs, he couldn’t catch up. Eventually the figure vanished into the darkness, and Ryekit halted. The trees suddenly felt a lot taller, looming over him, the misted shadows overpowering him like a giant black wave. Ryekit shrank down into the mud, all that warm emotion replaced by nothing but cold fear… Then the world went black, and he woke up. It was hardly lighter with his eyes open. The kit was lying in his nest in the ThunderClan nursery, snuggled against his mother’s soft belly. He simply sat there for a while, letting Acornflower’s rhymthic breathing settle his own terrified gasps left over from the nightmare. When he had calmed down he glanced around the dark bramble den. The brown tabby shape of his mother dozed beside him, and across the den he saw Lavenderkit, asleep on Willowsong’s back. Ryekit wrinkled his nose at the sight of the she-kit, then huddled down in the nest again and fell asleep, this time to a relieving lack of dreams. Chapter 2 - The New Apprentice ''“You’re getting your fur dirty! Come back here at once, youngster!” Ryekit rolled his eyes and trudged back through the itchy sheepswool to his mother’s side, taking care to brush his previously neat pelt against every bramble and twig he could on the way. The next day had dawned hot and sunny, just like every one had for the last couple of moons. Ryekit had remembered the strange dream from the night before, but like all his other thoughts, had shared it with no one, and pushed it out of his mind for now. It was the morning of the brown tabby tomkit’s apprenticeship, but all he felt like doing was falling back asleep; Acornflower had woken him much earlier than usual, anxious to get her son ready before the big ceremony. “Remember to stand tall, don’t say anything nasty and don’t playfight with anyone,” the queen was meowing between licks, but her kitten barely paid any attention to her. If I had any friends I would definitely wrestle them just to get on this old worry weed’s nerves, ''he thought angrily, and wrenched himself away from the striped she-cat’s gentle grasp. “Stop fussing over me, mouse-brain!” he hissed at her, sleek tail lashing with frustration. “Fine, have it your way,” Acornflower growled, a frown creasing her pretty face. “Just do as you’re told and be a little more mature later on.” Her green eyes suddenly lit up with pride, just as they had done earlier. “Oh, my little Ryekit, all grown up and becoming an apprentice! Seems like yesterday that you were b –“ She faltered suddenly, and a hint of panic and fury entered her eyes. “Er...” she managed to say, then bit her lip awkwardly and padded out of the den, leaving Ryekit alone. ''Oh, please, don’t get all mushy on me, ''the young tom thought sarcastically, and then followed his mother. It was even hotter outside the nursery. The sand under Ryekit’s paws was hard-baked, and the blazing sun prickled his fur. Leaves on some of the trees at the top of the hollow were dried and brittle. A few cats inhabited the clearing, most of them lying in the shade, eyes half-closed. The kit spotted his parent chatting with a tortoiseshell she-cat on the other side of the camp. He curled his lip, but was quickly mesmerized by the heat haze on the Highledge. The tabby was so busy watching it that it took a hard nudge on his shoulder before he realized someone had approached him. He jumped, and then turned abruptly to see Rosepond, the white-furred Clan deputy. She was one of the few cats whom held a mutual bond with the little tom. “Hi Ryekit,” she mewed cheerfully. He muttered a reply. “Hot enough for ya?” she joked, blue eyes twinkling. Ryekit allowed a small smile and nodded. “Not very vocal today, are we? Well, the heat’s getting to the whole Clan, I think, so that’s no surprise. I’ve always said it turns minds to slush. One of the warmest greenleafs I’ve ever experienced, actually. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have a dip in one of RiverClan’s creeks right now.” She grinned. “Excited for the ceremony, ‘Rye?” He shrugged his freshly groomed shoulders. “I suppose.” “’I suppose’ he says!” Rosepond meowed with pretend shock. “Great StarClan, when I was in your position, I was jumping around so much me mother didn’t know what to do with me! ‘Course, I was a pretty rowdy kit, so I guess it was expected!” the snowy-coloured cat laughed, and Ryekit smiled again. “Well, I’ve gotta go now, sonny. Be seen’ you.” And Ryekit’s only friend in ThunderClan walked away. Ryekit scuffed his paws in the bone-dry dirt. He scratched a flea from his ear. He watched Rosepond gather a patrol, then waited silently until it returned, at which point he had already eaten a wood mouse in the most bored, resentful way he knew how. ''For StarClan’s sake, when is this dumb apprentice ritual going to start? He was strongly considering sneaking off and smuggling a bunch of thorns into Lakebreeze’s nest again when all of a sudden, Patchstar emerged from his dark cave den and padded onto the Highledge. Lakebreeze immediately forgotten, all Ryekit could now feel was the rapid, nervous beating of his own heart. Nerves were something the kit was unused to; he normally acted on his own accord and spat in the face of any situation he was badgered into. But for this particular occasion he forgot his fiery attitude, and nervous chills flew up his spine, paws subconsciously working the sand below him. His heart leaped into his throat as the tall black-and-white tom yowled the regular meeting call: “Let us gather here under the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” It was very weird being practically rooted to the spot with fear as the milling crowd tried to push him forward; Ryekit saw the leader as an airheaded weakling, and he usually avoided dumb Clan meetings whenever he could. He had even watched a few apprentice ceremonies take place before, but he realized now that he shouldn’t have laughed at his former denmates’ jitteriness at the events. I suppose I never thought about going through it myself. Then he saw Acornflower hurrying toward him. Before Ryekit had time to move, the skinny brown she-cat was at his side. “Ryekit, you’ve ruffled up your coat! Clumsy kit!” she hissed at him, then started licking it back into order. The tabby tom was so nervous he didn’t bother an attempt to escape. The queen was soon done. “Now, little Ryekit, go out there and be the best kit ThunderClan’s ever seen!” Her green eyes lit up and she purred, then gave him a rare affectionate nudge that knocked him forward a few paces. Acornflower gave her son one last smile, then vanished into the throng to watch the ceremony. Surprising himself, Ryekit wished his mother was still washing him when he looked back at the center of the clearing and saw Patchstar waiting there, his fur also freshly groomed, ears pricked, tail wrapped neatly around his paws and eyes shining confidently. For a moment all the kit wanted to do was run. Run far, far away. He could feel his loathed Clanmates’ eyes burning his pelt, hear their excited breathing. Someone coughed and made the young cat jump. Come on, Ryekit, it’ll be okay, ''he tried to reassure himself. ''Everyone goes through this. I’ve seen what happens in it. I’m not a scaredy-mouse like Lavenderkit. I don’t cower in fear at the slightest touch of nerves. He squared his shoulders and slowed his breathing, but still couldn’t bring himself to look into the eyes of the crowd around him. So his amber gaze fell to the sandy ground and he marched forward silently, body stiff as stone. After what could have been a few seconds or a few centuries, Ryekit arrived in front of Patchstar. He refused to lift his eyes from the earth, but the leader didn’t seem to mind. He started droning on as he usually did: “Cats of ThunderClan, StarClan has blessed us this season. Greenleaf has brought plenty of sunshine and food, as well as healthy young. In these past few moons alone we have apprenticed as many kits, and another is about to join their ranks, a very special one indeed.” He paused for a moment, as if lost in thought, then spoke again. He placed a gentle white paw under the small brown tabby’s chin, pushing it up gently but firmly. The young tom was forced to look up at the leader he usually evaded at all costs and felt like gritting his teeth and looking down again, but held still. I don’t want to be embarrassed during my own ceremony. Rather, my stupid mother wouldn’t like it, and I wouldn’t really care at all. “Ryekit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day forward, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Ryepaw. Your mentor will be Birchslip.” Wait, what? ''The young tabby was so angry he hardly heard what Patchstar said next. “.…Birchslip, you are ready to take on an apprentice. You had received excellent training from Duskythistle, and you have shown yourself to be wise and kind. You will be the mentor of Ryepaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to him.” The aforementioned red-and-black tabby tom padded proudly but somewhat clumsily up to the base of Highledge, green eyes sparkling, tail flicking with nervous happiness. Ryepaw resisted the urge to roll his eyes and snort. Birchslip was the polar opposite of Ryepaw. The rounded warrior was extroadinarily patient and gentle, and always followed rules as strictly as possible. He had a mate, Larktail, and kits much younger than the newly named apprentice. He was so bland and ordinary, and practically worshipped Patchstar. The fiery little tom had heard that Birchslip was great in battle, but that hardly mattered. As the dark ginger tabby sat down beside Ryepaw, the apprentice had to clench his teeth and dig his long claws into the ground to stop himself from running away. He flinched when his new mentor looked down at him and smiled so warmly it was sickening, eyes agleam with delight. He flicked his tail-tip against Ryepaw’s back in a soft and friendly manner, as if trying to give him confidence. ''Oh, I’ll show you confidence, Birchidiot. Some of the cats began to chant “Ryepaw! Ryepaw!”, but it died down pretty fast. Like I care. “Aw, hi, ''Ryepaw!” A voice sounded behind him. A haughty, mocking voice. Ryepaw whipped around to see a black she-cat, a little older than him, her beady yellow eyes brimming with scornful laughter. ''Crowpaw. The snarky black apprentice was flanked by a red-and-white she-cat and Lilypaw, the tabby from the patrol. The bicolour cat’s eyes were full of mockery, but Lilypaw’s expression was unreadable. “You finally joined us in the apprentice den? Don’t know why Patchstar bothered with you, being such a scrawny little thing. S’pose that’s why he gave you a useless mentor like Birch –“ “Come on, Ryepaw,” Birchslip muttered to the brown tabby, having obviously overheard Crowpaw’s comments. “We’re gonna go do, uh…hunting training. Let’s go.” And with a flick of his slightly bushy red-and-black tail, he headed for the entrance tunnel. Ryepaw’s lip curled in a snarl. He hated Crowpaw – he always had, since early kithood – and he hated Birchslip for trying to save his apprentice from an argument with the arrogant black cat. Giving Crowpaw the dirtiest look he could muster, he turned and followed his mentor, trying not to run too fast and thus appear as if he actually wanted to avoid slicing his new denmate’s ear off. “Come on, Ryepaw!” Birchslip meowed, his face lit up with enthusiasm again. “You don’t wanna be late for your first training session!” The small brown tabby was about to yell that he was coming when another pair of warriors, a ginger she-cat with a fluffy, heavy coat and a darker ginger tom, wandered up to Crowpaw and her two bully friends, the nasty sisters Lilypaw and Cherrypaw. Ryepaw stopped a couple of tail-lengths from Birchslip and turned to look. “Why don’t we join their lesson, eh?” the she-cat said in a cheerful tone, looking at Crowpaw as she spoke. The striped red tom next to her nodded to Cherrypaw. Ryepaw wrinkled his nose; it was Redwood, the cat who had brought Ryepaw to Patchstar’s den for punishment. Crowpaw shook her head. “Me and Cherrypaw and Lilypaw are going hunting now. We’ve planned this since last night! We were gonna do it before but then Ryepaw’s dumb ceremony got in the way.” The brown tom flinched, curling his lip in a snarl, but he remained silent. “Oh, you are, are you? Well, Crowpaw, I don’t recall giving you permission to go hunting.” Ryepaw rolled his amber eyes. He didn’t want to sit around with Birchslip all day, waiting for the aggressive, self-absorbed black apprentice to come and train with him. He didn’t want to go anywhere near her. He was tired from getting up early, and he wanted to get this lame class over with so he could find a bed in the apprentices’ den and fall in it. The young tomcat absentmindedly scratched patterns into the sandy floor of the camp, tail flicking impatiently. Just then, he saw a smoky tabby she-cat emerge from the warriors’ den and approach the scene, blue eyes twinkling with concern. “What’s wrong, Sandyclaw?” she asked, glancing from apprentice to mentor. “Oh, Rainfur. Good. Your daughter’s acting up again,” the ginger cat replied, twitching her ears with irritation. “She refuses to come to a training session with the new apprentice.” “Well, Crowpaw, you better go,” the dark gray she-cat mewed to her kit. Crowpaw shook her head again, hackles raised slightly, yellow eyes narrowed. “No!” Rainfur looked hopelessly back at Sandyclaw. “She doesn’t want to go, so…” Sandyclaw looked ready to take a swipe at Rainfur, but then Patchstar approached them, black-and-white fur glowing in the morning sunshine. Ryepaw groaned inwardly. “Is there trouble here?” “Yes,” Sandyclaw began. Rainfur opened her mouth to object, but Sandyclaw flashed her a look hard as stone, and the smoky tabby shrank back. “Crowpaw doesn’t want to share a lesson with the new apprentice, and Rainfur apparently agrees.” Patchstar switched his leaf-green gaze between both she-cats, then spoke. “Rainfur, I know you want your daughter to enjoy herself, but Sandyclaw is her mentor and gets to decide what activities she is involved in. Sandyclaw, take your apprentice to the training session with Birchslip and Ryepaw. Rainfur, I need you to join a border patrol with Whitebird and Nettlefang.” Rainfur gave Sandyclaw a dark look and padded away to join her patrol, while the longhaired pale ginger cat dipped her fluffy head to her leader and strode confidently toward the entrance tunnel, Crowpaw reluctantly following with her eyes to the ground and tail drooping in the dust. Ryepaw saw Redwood say something to the red-and-white tabby Cherrypaw, and they padded in the same direction, Lilypaw sighing and walking away to join a few other young cats at her den. Ryepaw felt a strange stab of disappointment as he watched Lilypaw walk away, but he quickly shrugged it off. “Hello, Sandyclaw, Redwood,” Birchslip meowed, standing up. “You wish to join our training session?” “Yes. It’ll be fun,” Sandyclaw purred, all traces of her anger with Crowpaw and Rainfur gone. The fat red-and-black tabby nodded, beckoned his own, reluctant apprentice with his tail, and the group filed out of the stone hollow. Though he was sleepy and annoyed with the other apprentice, Ryepaw couldn’t help a secret flicker of excitement warming his belly as they walked in what must be the direction of the training hollow. This wasn’t the mischievous tom’s first time out of camp, but he was thrilled anyway. This was it. Ryepaw was an apprentice now. Chapter 3 - Taken “No, not like that! Ryepaw, come over here and watch for a bit!” A faint growl rumbled in Ryepaw’s throat as he heaved himself to his paws and shook dirt from his coat, glaring at the speaker, Birchslip. A couple of fox-lengths away stood Crowpaw, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and triumph. She had managed to deflect the younger apprentice’s attack once again, and was clearly enjoying her time in the mossy clearing despite her initial annoyance at being forced to come along. Cherrypaw sat at the edge of the clearing with Redwood and Sandyclaw, a smug expression on her face, while Birchslip watched from the other side on a tree stump. Crowpaw smirked as Ryepaw stalked off to sit next to his mentor, Cherrypaw taking his place. Her mentor, Redwood, joined her for a moment to whisper in her ear. She nodded and crouched down, tail twitching with anticipation, and the tom returned to his place with Sandyclaw. Cherrypaw crouched, ears twitching this way and that. Crowpaw lowered her body slightly, as if she could hardly be bothered to show enthusiasm, even for her friend. Even Ryepaw saw Cherrypaw’s eyes give away her aim as she sailed through the air. Crowpaw had noticed this too, for she hopped neatly out of the way and thumped her attacker on the head as she fell past her and landed on the ground. Crowpaw clearly thought she had won this battle, for she sat up with her black tail curled around her paws, but Cherrypaw wasn’t done yet. In a flash she was on her feet again and lunged at Crowpaw, catching her off guard and bowling her over, proceeding to kick at her belly with sheathed claws. Crowpaw hissed angrily and lay still, giving up, and Cherrypaw climbed off and faced Redwood. “Nice move, Cherrypaw!” the dark ginger tom praised the younger she-cat. “The element of surprise is an important one in battle.” Cherrypaw looked ready to burst with pride, her face only darkening when she saw Crowpaw get up and spit on the ground, tail waving irritably. “S-sorry, Crowpaw,” Cherrypaw apologized. Ryepaw stared in surprise. He never would have expected the tough, self-centered Cherrypaw to apologize for her own battle technique in training. Crowpaw did not acknowledge her crony’s words, but simply twisted her head to groom her dark pelt. “Now it’s Crowpaw’s turn,” Sandyclaw declared. The apprentices returned to their original places. Suddenly perked up again with her eyes aglow with determination and smugness, Crowpaw looked her friend up and down, eyes narrowed with concentration. She feinted a jump, causing Cherrypaw to rear up and fall back clumsily, barely catching herself in time and sneezing from the cloud of dust that blew up around her. Ryepaw stifled a purr of amusement. Then the night-coloured she-cat attacked again, this time for real. She landed just in front of Cherrypaw, catching the patchy cat on the head with a hard whack from her paw. Cherrypaw recoiled, giving her opponent time to slip underneath and whip her legs out from under her. Cherrypaw fell down completely this time and Cherrypaw jumped on top of her, one paw on her throat and tail lashing with exhiliration. Ryepaw couldn’t help feeling impressed. He hated Crowpaw but he had to admit, she was a decent fighter. I bet I could beat her next time though. '' “Very well done!” Sandyclaw meowed, and Cherrypaw suddenly leaped up, sending her friend tumbling onto the grass. “Yeah, I guess,” the ginger-and-white apprentice mewed quietly. Crowpaw’s yellow eyes shone. “I think it’s time Ryepaw had another turn,” Birchslip announced suddenly. Sandyclaw shrugged and nodded, while Redwood remained silent. Gritting his teeth with determination to win this time and not repeat his humiliation, the brown tabby tom retook his place across from Crowpaw as Cherrypaw loped back over to her mentor. “Come at me, Ryepaw,” Crowpaw hissed quietly, so only her opponent could hear. Her eyes mocked him as he slid into his attack crouch. “Show me how a real warrior fights. Or are you too cowardly? Go back to the nursery where you belong, and leave room in the apprentices’ den for cats who ''aren’t ''stupid wimps.” Fury rose like bile in Ryepaw’s throat, and he flattened his ears, tail waving back and forth in a fiery rhythm. He leaned down till his belly fur brushed the short grass, amber eyes narrowed to slits, carefully checking the black she-cat’s body position. She was also crouched, tail twitching, prepared for an attack. In his mind Ryepaw went over everything his mentor had told him before his last practice round. ''Judge your leap distance…look for an opening…don’t let your eyes betray your aim… Ryepaw’s ear twitched as he heard the screech and rustle of a bird flying from a tree nearby. He didn’t look up, but Crowpaw did, and that was when he struck. Ryepaw pushed off the ground with already-strong haunches and leaped, landing on Crowpaw. The she-cat was unprepared for the attack and was bowled over onto her back. Anger clouded the brown tabby’s judgement, and he slashed her across the face, claws unsheathed. She squealed in pain but that only fanned the flames of fury in Ryepaw’s stomach, and he kicked her soft underside with his hindpaws, tearing off clumps of black fur. Ryepaw scored his front claws above her eye, then bit down hard on his opponent’s ear, earning another agonized scream as she tried in vain to kick and bite at the angry brown tom. Ryepaw was so caught up in the moment, filled with determination to harm the bully as much as he could, that he failed to notice two large shapes streaking toward the fighting, clawing, screeching apprentices. Next thing he knew, Ryepaw felt strong teeth in the scruff of his neck, and he was hauled off Crowpaw and dropped onto the floor of the clearing. He lay in a patch of dusty grass for a moment, dazed, then rose shakily to his paws and shook out his coat, trying to regain his dignity. A few feet in front of him stood Sandyclaw, Birchslip and Crowpaw. Sandyclaw spat a scrap of brown fur out of her mouth, while Crowpaw stared at her enemy, yellow eyes brimming with ferocity, body covered in scratches that glistened with blood, and half of one of her ears had been bitten off. Birchslip strode toward his apprentice, his round face plastered with horror and fury. “How dare ''you attack your own denmate so viciously, Ryepaw?!” he yowled, black-and-ginger pelt fluffed up in shock. “Everyone knows that you always keep your claws sheathed during training sessions! What were you ''thinking!” Ryepaw tried to summon up words to defend himself, words that were angry and clever and would shut his mentor’s stupid mouth, but he could think of nothing to say. Shock froze his tongue. He glimpsed Redwood, still at the edge of the clearing. He had risen to a standing position, fur bristling along his spine, and tail wrapped protectively around his apprentice, Cherrypaw, who was watching the scene in front of her with curious, amused blue eyes. He hardly needs to protect her, ''Ryepaw thought with annoyance. She’s just as nasty as Crowpaw, but the warriors just don’t see it. That’s never going to change.'' “Well?” Ryepaw jumped at Birchslip’s sudden mew. He realized that everyone in the mossy clearing was waiting for him to reply. He was about to when Crowpaw stepped forward, scratched and bruised with her black pelt shredded to bits, but her yellow eyes glowed with the same mockery that they had before the fight. She drew herself up to full height, and wrapped her tail around her paws, speaking in a smooth, sarcastic drawl. “Come on, Ryepaw. What do you say?” He didn’t know what it was about that sentence, but it sent a bolt of red-hot fury through Ryepaw. He crouched in the dust, lip drawn back in a snarl, hackles raised and tail waving aggressively. He backed away across the training hollow, paws thumping on the soft grass, then with a sharp hiss at Crowpaw he turned tail and fled into the forest, ignoring the yowls of the mentors behind him. __________ The brown tom darted through the trees, just as he had the previous day. He had often run away from camp, but he was never as angry as he was now. Hre leaped over logs and streams, dodging around bushes and tree trunks. Shouts of ThunderClan cats soon faded behind him, but he kept going, enjoying the sensation of warm wind in his pelt. Eventually Ryepaw’s muscles tired, and he slowed to a stop at the foot of a pine tree. He sniffed the air and recognized the stench of ShadowClan. He must be at the border. The apprentice was about to rest when another scent, much more pleasant and inviting, hit the roof of his half-open, panting mouth: rabbit. Rabbits were uncommon in the forest, and the fresh-kill would do well to feed the growing hunger that gnawed at his belly. Ryepaw dropped into the hunter’s crouch that Rosepond had taught him when he was a kit, sniffing hard to pinpoint the direction of the rabbit. He then stalked forward, trying hard to be quiet, and soon saw a fluffy white bobtail sticking out of a rosebush. Slowly, carefully, he crawled across the leaf-strewn forest floor. He waggled his haunches, preparing to pounce, but in his excitement to jump he rustled a bush next to him. The rabbit popped its head up, ears pricked, and shot away into the undergrowth. Ryepaw leaped forward and charged after it, all senses focused on his prey. He pursued the white creature for what felt like ages, until hunter and prey burst out of the trees into the sunlight and the rabbit vanished down a hole in the ground. The young tabby sat back on his haunches, disappointment filling him like cold water. He looked around, and realized with a jolt that he had no idea where he was. To his right was a row of pine trees with ShadowClan scent drifting across, and about six fox-lengths behind him was a huge den made of wood and stone at the edge of the sparkling lake, and a long strip of hard black stuff winding up into the trees in the other direction. That must be a Twoleg nest, and a Thunderpath. ''His mother had told him about them. But where was he? Ryepaw had never been taken on a tour of ThunderClan territory before, and there was no ThunderClan scent here. He was completely lost. All of a sudden a loud, sharp noise made him whip around. Moving toward him was a giant shiny creature, running along the Thunderpath. ''Is that a Twoleg monster? Great StarClan, I’m gonna get squashed! With a yowl of terror Ryepaw sprang to his paws and dashed across the river of sour-smelling stone, away from ShadowClan territory and the Twoleg nest. His paws landed safely in the dirt on the other side, and the monster roared on past. It must not have seen me. Panting with exhiliration, Ryepaw kept running, uphill along the Thunderpath and away from home. He slowed down again after a minute, sitting down next to a dark tree stump. The fragrant smell of pine needles filled the air, clouding his untrained senses to any other scents in the area. Ryepaw sighed and coughed, trying to get his breath back. After a brief rest of his sore muscles he rose to his feet again and parted his jaws, trying to detect any prey-scent that may be present. His belly growled with hunger and his paws felt as if they would drop off. At that moment, a strong new scent hit his nostrils, but he didn’t even have time to turn before an agonising pain hit the back of his head, and the world went black. Chapter 4 - The Bite of the Wolf Ryepaw felt a thick, gritty surface brush roughly against his pelt, but his eyes remained closed; he could barely feel his legs as his mind finally awoke from being knocked out. Many smells filled his nose: salt water, sand, rocks, wind, and…strange cats? Slowly his body started to work again. He twitched his tail and shook sand from his ears. He could feel that he had been lifted off the ground, though he could feel the steady, rhythmic thumping of other creatures’ feet on other side of him. His body bounced slightly with their pawsteps. Suddenly his body was dropped on a smooth, cold, hard floor, and his eyes flew open. He was in a large stony cave with a high ceiling covered in dark gray stalactites. Some parts of the walls were covered in moss. All around him were crowds of cats. Young and old, plump and slender, tabby, calico and bicolour: in that moment the cave seemed to hold more cats than Ryepaw had ever seen. The ones staring at him had a bizarre, earthy, watery smell with a salty tinge that made his lip curl. Lined up beside him were young cats, ones about his age, all looking as scared and confused as he felt. Some of them had scents unrecognizable to him, while some…some smelled of the Clans! He was about to speak to the ShadowClan-scented brown-and-white tom beside him when he heard a cat loudly clear her throat in front of them, and he turned back with his paws shaking in fear to see a huge gray-and-white cat. Her limbs were well-muscled and her eyes flashed amber as she gazed upon the young cats. She was one of the biggest cats he had ever seen, though he had mainly only seen those in ThunderClan. Next to her sat a brown tabby tom whose coat was split with innumerable old battle scars. Ryepaw was contemplating this cat’s grizzly appearance when the big gray-and-white cat spoke, snapping his attention back to her. “Hello, youngsters,” she began with a smooth, slightly deep voice, “my name is Oceanstar, and this is OceanClan.” She gestured with her long, thick tail to the cats gathered around her. Ryepaw’s eyes widened, fur bristling with uncertainty. OceanClan? But there are only four Clans - ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan and ShadowClan. Even the tinest kit knows that. What is this cat on about? ''But there was something about her tone that demanded silence and obediance, and he said nothing. “I know you must all be feeling slightly unsettled right now, but all that fear will be over with soon. My warriors have rescued you from your pathetic lives to bring you here, to my glorious Clan, so that you may grow up safe and secure, with proper authority to guide you along life’s journey.” Muttering broke out among the row of cats, and the tom next to Ryepaw hissed in his ear, “What is this cat talking about? What’s OceanClan?” Ryepaw shrugged wordlessly, eyes aglow with terror. This Oceanstar claimed that she had “rescued” these young cats. How had she rescued them? Ryepaw hated his Clan with a fiery vengeance, but he didn’t need rescuing. The knot of anxiety in the apprentice’s belly was growing by the second, and so was the realization that he was in terrible danger. He turned to flee, but a row of big, burly cats guarded the entrance to the cave. Beyond their broad, furry shoulders he could see triangles of sunlight. His heart yearned to escape this strange cave and its strange cats, to get some fresh air and catch some food to fill his still-empty stomach, but fear and shock kept him rooted to the spot. “You want to ''keep us here?” a voice squeaked loudly from somewhere down the line, and Ryepaw glimpsed gray ears lifting above everyone else’s. Oceanstar’s flame-coloured gaze snapped to the speaker, and Ryepaw felt the whole line move backward. “What is your name, sweetie?” Oceanstar meowed in a quiet, cold voice. “S-Sleetpaw.” Oceanstar’s broad head rose again and so did her voice. “Indeed I do, Sleetpaw, indeed I do. You will all lead far better lives here than in the Clans or Twoleg nests where you were born. You will become successful OceanClan warriors, just like all these cats you see here whom I rescued moons ago.” Ryepaw stared at the thick crowd of cats watching him again. All those cats were stolen by OceanClan too? Why are they still here? Why didn’t they leave? “From now on, all of you shall obey my ruling, no matter what I say. Understand?” No one spoke, but a few nodded fearfully, and that seemed to suffice. “You shall be loyal to OceanClan, to me, and no one else. If you behave, you will be rewarded generously with a life of pride and comfort, and help carry out my master plan. If you disobey me…well, you’ll see.” These words sent chills through Ryepaw for multiple reasons. What was Oceanstar’s “master plan”? And what were these terrible consequences for misbehaviour that she refused to directly speak of? “Until you become warriors, you will be known as “slave apprentices”. You will be trained in the arts of fighting and hunting, but you will also be personal servants to every higher-ranked cat in the Clan, not just the elders. We have no elders here in OceanClan, for they are a useless burden on their younger, fitter, smarter Clanmates.” Ryepaw’s amber eyes blinked in surprise but he remained silent, trying to take all this in. “Now I shall name all of you. Most of you are from the other, pathetic Clans, so you will either be renamed or left with your original name. For the non-Clan cats in the group: your names will end in ‘paw until you become warriors and leave your slave duties behind.” Oceanstar padded heavily up to Ryepaw, and he was forced to choke on her salty, dark scent. “What is your name?” she demanded, eyes glittering. The brown tabby swallowed. “Ryepaw,” he mewed, as steadily as he could. “Ryepaw. Hmm, that’ll do. Next. Your name?” Her gaze was fixed on the brown-and-white tom who had whispered into Ryepaw’s ear. “Uh, Mudpaw,” he responded quietly. “Yes, I like that. Next cat. You, with the light ginger fur.” Ryepaw craned his neck to see a golden tabby she-cat shaking in fear from head to toe. “B-B-Birdpaw,” she squeaked out. Oceanstar shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. What an awful name you’ve been cursed with, my dear. Well, it’s time to lift that curse. I think Honeypaw suits you better.” “Hey, you can’t do that!” the ShadowClan apprentice called Mudpaw snapped. “Her name’s Birdpaw, that’s what our mother called her. You can’t just change it!” He stood tall all of a sudden, tail flicking with anger. Oceanstar rounded on the young tom, eyes burning. Twice his size, her shadow fell over him, but he did not back down. “Shut up, Oceanstar! She’s called Birdpaw and that’s that!” Ryepaw was impressed by this display at first, of Mudpaw protecting his sister’s pride. Then the ThunderClan tom realized that Mudpaw had put himself in danger by saying this; they had just met Oceanstar, and she was foreboding enough just through her speech. They had no idea what she was capable of. “Leave it, Mudpaw,” he hissed at the brown-and-white cat. He had never met Mudpaw before, but he felt an instinctive tug to stop this apprentice from getting himself into an unnecessary incident. “It’s just a name. It’s not worth getting hurt over.” Mudpaw turned his head angrily to spit at Ryepaw, but Oceanstar spoke first. “Listen to Ryepaw, young one. He has a wise heart. Do not start battles you cannot win.” Her first two sentences were mewed in a silky tone, but her final words sounded more like a threat. Mudpaw sat down again, but his fur struggled to lie flat. Oceanstar renamed the four other cats in the line, then stepped back to her original position. “Now that we have established initial introductions, this is Ridgerock, my deputy.” Her tail rested on the shoulder of the scarred tom beside her, then fell away again. “He is a loyal old friend, and would do anything for me. He will be tracking your progress carefully.” The ugly brown cat dipped his head slightly, but gave no other acknowledgement. Another chill went up Ryepaw’s spine. “I shall send all of you off to do chores. Remember: OceanClan is your home now. Obey orders, and you will lead a safe, happy life. Disobey any authority, and you will wish you hadn’t.” She gestured with a sweep of her tail to the three warriors nearest to her. “Wolfcoat, Rivertuft, Dawnwhisker - divide these new slave apprentices into groups and take them out for training.” The warriors nodded, and Oceanstar stalked further into the shadows of the cave with Ridgerock at her shoulder. The first warrior to speak was a longfurred, smoky tabby tom with a strangely flat face and piercing orange eyes. “I am Wolfcoat,” he growled. “I will take Ryepaw, Cloudpaw and Sleetpaw. Rivertuft,” he gestured to a shorthaired gray tabby tom, “take Honeypaw and Nightpaw. Dawnwhisker, you can have Pebblepaw and Mudpaw this time.” The creamy white she-cat and the gray tabby tom dipped their heads to Wolfcoat, and Ryepaw guessed that the smoky gray-black cat was a senior warrior. Rivertuft and Dawnwhisker took their apprentices away, and Wolfcoat looked his three terrified charges up and down. “You’re all shaking like baby birds on a leaf-bare night, but there may be hope for you cats yet. Let’s go hunting.” He approached the line of burly guards at the cave entrance, and they parted respectfully to let him pass. The three apprentices exchanged terrified glances. Ryepaw swallowed, trying to squash his fear, and flicked his tail bravely. He rose to his paws, and Sleetpaw and Cloudpaw followed him as he padded slowly and stiffly after Wolfcoat. Bright sunshine hit Ryepaw like a blow to the face. He blinked, looking down at the sand to rest his eyes from the glaring light. In front of them was a long, broad beach that ended in a sea of black water. Ryepaw heard birdcalls he had never heard before, and cringed at the sensation of sand crunching under his paws. A cold wind blew over them from the water, but otherwise it was a hot, clear day. “This way,” Wolfcoat growled, padding across the sand. Ryepaw wrinkled his nose as the wind blew the stench of salt water into his face, and when he tried to step forward his paw sunk into the thick, scratchy yellow grains. He flinched with annoyance, then began to enjoy the sensation of the cooler sand under the sun-heated top layer. “Come on!” the warrior shouted at them, eyes burning with impatience. Cloudpaw, a skinny white she-cat with a gray muzzle, paws and tail-tip who stank of Twolegs, and Sleetpaw, the gray tabby who had questioned Oceanstar, ran past the brown tom. He lifted his paw out of the hole, ears reddening with embarrassment, and hurried after them, trying to tread lightly to prevent sinking into the sand again. Wolfcoat halted at the edge of the ocean, where the sand had been dampened into a smooth grayish line. “Here in OceanClan we hunt creatures that you slave apprentices probably have not encountered before, especially the kittypet over there.” He flicked his thick tail at Cloudpaw, who gulped nervously, paws working the soft, wet sand. “These include fish, crabs and clams. We also eat seaweed on occasion.” Ryepaw’s eyes narrowed with confusion. Seaweed? What’s that? “Hey, you.” Wolfcoat beckoned gruffly to Sleetpaw. “We took you from RiverClan territory. You’re one of them, no?” Sleetpaw hesitated, then spoke quietly. “Yes.” “Then you know how to catch fish?” Sleetpaw nodded, eyes brightening a little at the prospect of being singled out in a positive way by these scary, foreboding cats. “Show me then.” Wolfcoat stepped back, nodding to the seawater. Sleetpaw looked bewildered. “B-but I’ve only hunted in rivers -“ Wolfcoat silenced her with a cold stare. “Water’s water. Now fish.” Reluctantly, Sleetpaw waded out into the shallows. Her fur bristled at first, no doubt at the icy shock, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much. She glanced around, leaned back and flashed her paw out at impressive speed. But she came up with nothing, and turned back with a shrug of disappointment. “Stupid apprentice!” Wolfcoat shouldered his way past the other young cats and launched himself into the green-black water with a splash. It soaked his long fur, turning it an even darker colour. “You don’t just dab your paw around hoping a fish will swim up!” the warrior spat. Sleetpaw backed away, ears flat to her small head. “You have to go deeper in the water, look for the fish, and grab them with teeth and claws! This isn’t a quiet little stream, Sleetpaw!” He dove under the ocean, resurfacing a minute later with three small fish in his jaws. He walked up to the beach again, Sleetpaw in tow. Ryepaw’s hackles rose. “You can’t blame her! She’s only fished in rivers, as she said!” He didn’t really want to defend the RiverClan she-cat - his main goal was simply to get on the grumpy warrior’s nerves. Wolfcoat dropped the fish onto the sand, shook out his glossy pelt and stalked over to the brown tabby. “What did you say?” He shoved his muzzle into the apprentice’s face, orange eyes blazing with anger, but Ryepaw refused to back down, betraying his earlier warning to Mudpaw. This cat’s probably all bark and no bite. If he’s anything like a ThunderClan warrior, he’ll send me back to camp with nothing more than a halfhearted lecture. “It wasn’t Sleetpaw’s fault. You were wrong, but you just don’t want to admit it.” Wolfcoat bared his grimy teeth and hissed. “Bite your tongue, little tom, or you’ll regret it.” Ryepaw stood his ground, eyes hard with stubbornness. “You’ve made the wrong decision, crowfood.” Before Ryepaw knew what was happening, the smoky tabby unsheathed his claws and swiped across Ryepaw’s face, scoring deep scratches on his cheek and nose. The apprentice yelped with pain and sprang backward, crouching low to the sand with his fur on end. Cloudpaw and Sleetpaw watched the altercation with their jaws dropped open in shock. Wolfcoat sheathed his claws again, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “And that,” he spat the word, “is what you get for challenging an OceanClan warrior.” He turned to the other apprentices, ignoring the horror in their eyes. “Shall we?” With that, he began to walk back in the direction of the camp cave, fish in his jaws and head and tail high. With anxious glances at Ryepaw, the two she-cats sprinted after him, leaving Ryepaw to lick blood from his muzzle, rise shakily to his paws and follow them. Chapter 5 To Be Continued